Jump Start to Feeling
by This Is My Escape
Summary: Elena is paralyzed from the waist down. She doesn't like Christmas because on top of everything else, her old boyfriend walked out on her because he couldn't deal with her injury. In walks Damon... An AH/AU fic written for the DE A2A Fic Exchange. Rated M.


**AN: Another holiday prompt I filled for the DE A2A Fic Exchange. It caught my attention, and I had to write it. It definitely got away from me though, but when the muse demands something to be written, she makes sure I go all out! Hope you enjoy it, Carol. ~Kate **

**Her prompt was this: Elena is paralyzed from the waist down as a result of a drunk driver or some kind of accident just before the holidays. She doesn't like Christmas because on top of everything else, her old boyfriend walked out on her because he couldn't deal with her injury. She's angry and depressed because she thinks no one will ever love her given her paralysis. In walks Damon who makes it his mission to prove to her that life is beautiful and that Christmas can still be a magical time of the year. (He can be her friend, secretly in love with her or he can be a stranger who's completely captivated with this Elena. (Extra points for a beautiful love scene.)**

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><p>Tears, nearly the size of marbles, roll down her cheeks while she stares out her window on Christmas Eve. This time of the year used to bring her such joy. It's been three weeks since her accident. Three weeks since her life was forever changed when she made the mistake of leaving the house at midnight for a damn bottle of Chardonnay, at her boyfriend's request. Chardonnay that she didn't even want to drink, but Liam had insisted on having.<p>

"It's the holidays," he'd said, nudging her shoulder in a manner that was more of something a friend would do than something a significant other would. "Who celebrates the holidays without the good stuff?"

"Does it have to be now?" she'd asked him with an accompanying yawn. "It's so late, Liam, we can go tomorrow."

"Come on, babe." He'd patted her ass. "I'll make it worth your while when you get back."

Chardonnay was not on her list of things she'd enjoyed drinking, but she'd wanted to make him happy. She'd bundled up in a scarf, hat, and gloves and then gone on the errand, went to the nearest 24-hour liquor store and purchased what she'd thought would pass as his version of "the good stuff." Leaving the sketchy store and carrying the bottle in a narrow paper bag, she held it with a death grip and praying she wouldn't slip and fall. The last thing she wanted out of this little adventure was a broken wrist right before Christmas.

She'd made it around the corner, her apartment complex in sight, and breathed a heavy sigh of relief, watching as her breath formed into a puff cloud before disappearing. Almost six hundred more feet, and she'd be home. Warm. Dry. Not drinking Chardonnay, but she'd be with her boyfriend who'd recently told her he'd loved her.

With that thought in mind, she didn't think twice. She stepped off the sidewalk and onto the crosswalk with the Walking signal flashing.

The last thing she recalls of that night is a bright light and a blaring noise so horrifically loud she thinks it'll be permanently engrained in her memory. She stares down at her lap, covered in a large blanket that she doesn't even feel unless she runs her fingers over it. Her legs don't feel anything anymore. She's trapped, confined in a metal chair for the rest of her life. All because of an errand.

She remembers waking up in the hospital a few days later. Someone was holding her hand, but when she forced her eyes open, that hand holding hers did not belong to Liam. But someone from her past who she thought she'd never see again.

"Damon?" she croaked, her voice sounding like someone had taken sand paper to it. When she finally registered the sound of a heart monitor, the slow and steady beats skipped once, and then twice, as she began to panic. She instantly tried to sit up, to right herself, but her body was too heavy. "What happened?"

"You're in the hospital, Elena." She couldn't suppress her snort, that much was clear. "You've been out for three days." It looked like he wanted to say something else, but his eyes snapped to the doorway. "And your doctor's going to want to know you're awake."

"Wait," she'd blurted out as soon as he begun to get to his feet. "What are you doing here? Where's Liam?"

She knew bringing him up would be a touchy subject, but she needed to know why he wasn't the first one she saw when she woke up.

"I came as soon as I heard you were in the hospital, your man left when I got here." He shot her a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes before patting her hand, removing hers from his and then leaving to go find her attending physician.

"Miss Gilbert," a kind voice spoke as she stepped into the room, holding up a chart and ready to document whatever she was about to learn with her pen. Damon returned to Elena's side and sat down next to her on the mattress. "My name is Josette Parker. How are we feeling?"

"I'm in pain," she answered honestly, noting the fatigue in her voice. "I feel like I was hit by an eighteen-wheeler."

At that statement, Elena swore she felt the air thicken with tension and hesitancy. "What?" she laughed weakly. "Is that what happened?" She watched Dr. Parker's eyes dart to Damon's, feeling Damon's hand slip into hers. Distracted by the physical contact, she stared down at their joined hands.

"Miss Gilbert," she asked. "What do you remember from that night?"

She huffed out a long breath, "I went for an errand."

"At nearly one in the morning?"

"It was for my boyfriend." Damon's hand suddenly gripped too tight onto hers, before he relaxed it just as quick, mumbling a grumbled apology. "He wanted Chardonnay."

"Chardonnay?" he snorted. "You don't even like –"

"And then I remember a loud noise, like a car horn or something."

"You feel like you've been hit by an eighteen-wheeler, Miss Gilbert, because you were struck by a car that night. A Ford F-150, to be exact…you're lucky to be alive."

Damon's hand tightened on hers again, but the only thing she could feel coming from it was strength. Part of her was grateful for it, but an equal part of her was confused by the display…she felt fine. Tired, and sore. But fine. "Then why do I get the feeling you're walking on eggshells around me?" she asks, still not understanding what has both her doctor and her…and Damon so hesitant to come out with the truth. "Did you have to operate on me?"

Apparently she'd given Dr. Parker the entry she'd needed because she exhaled sharply. "Yes. You were internally bleeding and there was the matter you'd broken both your wrist –" she couldn't escape that fate, it seemed, "along with your spine, fractured in three places."

Her doctor continued to speak though all she could hear was a voice. She wasn't able to decipher the words she was saying. All she could hear was _your spine, fractured in three places,_ and her stomach roiled. She felt the blood drain from her face, and her mouth started watering. Thank God for Damon because he instantly recognized the signs of someone about to be sick, and quickly grabbed the plastic basin on her bedside table. After emptying what little was in her stomach, she wiped her mouth. "What does this mean?" she rasped. "What are you saying?"

Dr. Parker frowned. "I just explained –"

"Clearly she wasn't hearing it, Doc," Damon snapped, rubbing Elena's back. "Hit the rewind button and repeat what you said."

"We ran tests, Miss Gilbert," she said, "X-Rays, bloodwork, everything. Your X-Rays were worrisome when we learned that while the surgery was a success, your spine may never completely heal."

"Oh my God," she breathed, fighting the urge to lose it a second time, "I can't be a…I'm a…"

"I'm sorry, Elena," Damon whispered into her ear, his hand had stopped rubbing circles and he was now holding her. "I'm so sorry."

"It may be only a temporary thing, until the swelling goes down…but I'm terribly sorry to have to inform you, Miss Gilbert, that you are a paraplegic."

It's been three weeks since that day, and all she can think about is how she may never be able to walk again. She's already started preliminary physical therapy. It may be a futile attempt, but she has to try. If she is stuck in this chair for the rest of her life, her life may as well be over. She'll never again get to run along the beach during early mornings in the summer. She'll never again be able to dance to music that's too loud…but maybe she can learn some wheelchair tricks…how hard can it be to pull a wheelie in one of these things?

But the thought that sticks out to her is that she'll more than likely never be able to have her own children. She and Liam had been discussing it earlier in the year. She'd had a scare, and that's what opened the doorway to the conversation she'd been wanting to have with him for a while. Unfortunately, children weren't something he wanted in their future, and children were irrevocably a part of hers. That conversation had put a time limit on their relationship, but her accident had written them off much sooner, considering not only could Liam not handle kids, but couldn't cope with her condition either.

In his defense, she can say he did try. He tried to work with it, installing ramps over the short steps that led from the living room into the kitchen, or the railings he'd installed by the bathroom toilets so that Elena didn't have to struggle so much. Until Elena had started feeling better about a week ago, both emotionally and physically and she and Liam had tried to spend some much needed _time_ together. Liam, of course, had no problems getting there, but for Elena…well, she couldn't feel whether or not she was ready. Whatever stirrings had begun fizzled out with his impatience. Whatever little jolts she'd feel with his quick movements weren't enough to send her into a climax worth feeling.

Enough of her failure in the bedroom, and he'd grown sick of it.

"I can't do this," he'd said, not an hour before this very moment. "I can't be with someone and not really be with them."

And that was that. He walked out and didn't come back.

She'd known it was coming. If the accident hadn't called their relationship quits, it would have been their wanting two different things out of life.

"Ho, ho, ho," a velvety voice calls from the front door causing a smile to nearly grace her lips.

Damon Cristiano Salvatore. A man who she once saw sharing her entire life with only a few years ago, until a life-altering event sent them their separate ways. To many, a book tour might not seem a good enough reason to end a relationship before it could even begin, but to Damon, he understood her craving for adventure. He refused to let her regret even a minute of her life, their life together, if she didn't do what she had to do to ensure her novel was a success. Unfortunately, visitations during her tour, as beautiful and passionate as they were, were few and far between until quite simply, they no longer existed.

And then the news of her accident spread like wildfire, so of course Damon would have heard about it. And ever since, he's remained as permanent a fixture in her life as this wheelchair had become.

"What the hell are you doing?" he asks, finding her in the same spot Liam had left her in. "Didn't you and lover boy have plans to go to the Christmas Tree lighting ceremony tonight?"

"Plans changed."

"I can see that," he says with concern in his crystal blue eyes as he made his way to sit beside her. "What happened?" She turns to him with tears in her eyes. "Elena…"

"What do you think?" she hisses, gripping the arms of her chair. "After the ceremony drinks and dancing usually follow, but guess who can't do the latter anymore?"

She wishes she could throw her wheelchair out the window, but alas, that would mean throwing herself out as well, and she's not that desperate – just severely pissed with life and her shitty hand she was dealt.

"He left me, Damon."

"He's an idiot, Elena."

"It was going to happen anyway," she sniffles, "I want kids, he doesn't. But I guess fate wants us to end sooner rather than later."

"Fate has a funny way of moving things along," he tells her, wiping a tear from her cheek. "Come on, pouty. Just because you can't move your legs doesn't mean you can't dance."

"Says who?" she snaps.

He smirks. "Me." He holds out a hand and she stares at it like it's a dog with three heads. "Well? May I have this dance?"

"You've got to be joking," she replies with a shake of her head. "No. This is stupid, Damon, it has Disaster written all over it."

"Do you trust me?"

"Yes." Her answer, this time, is instantaneous and she lifts her eyes to his, seeing nothing but sincerity in their depths.

"Do think I'd ever let you fall?"

"I know you wouldn't," she whispers.

"How are you feeling?"

"Fine." And then suddenly he's lifting her effortlessly into his arms, curling one around her back, and the other slipping into her hand, tangling their fingers together before he begins to sway them back and forth to the music of silence. "You're crazy, you know that?" she asks softly, resting her cheek on his shoulder as he continues to move them.

"Heard it happens when you're in love."

"What?" she asks, her head shooting up. "Damon –"

"I never stopped, Elena. You were a novelist just starting out, you needed to do what was needed to make sure that book was a successful one. I needed to back out of the picture so you didn't feel as conflicted. We both sacrificed our feelings, and granted that book is one of New York Times' bestsellers, but what about us?" He touches the side of her face, no longer swaying, and rubbing his thumb along her jaw. "What we had, Elena, it was real wasn't it?"

Her lip trembles and his thumb caresses it, smoothing it out. "You know it was."

"I never stopped feeling that way for you. Time passed, women…lots and lots of –"

"I get it," she chuckles tearfully and he winked before kissing her on the forehead.

"Women came and went, but my heart wanted one woman. It still only wants one woman."

"A crippled woman," she frowns, now squirming to get out of his hold but he refuses. "Let me down, Damon."

"Never," he answers without skipping a beat. "I'll never let you down. That douche-for-brains made the worst mistake of his life by walking out of yours. I made the worst mistake of my life by letting you live yours without me. I'll never forgive myself for those lost years, Elena. Not for as long as I live. But…I'm here now. I love you. And I want to be with you."

"I'm broken."

"You're not broken," he snarls. "I never, ever, want to hear you refer to yourself that way again. You're hurt, not broken, and there is a major difference between those words, you got me?"

She gives a shaky nod and she watches the tension fade from his face, feels it drain from his body. "You're here now," she breathes. "But what about when Parker says the damage is irreversible. Unless your plans for the future have changed, Damon, you still want kids. What if I can't give them to you?"

He laughs, "God, that's not even a blip on my radar, baby." He cradles her head in his hand, and presses his lips to hers, and she nearly cries with joy because their mouths still remember how the other feels. Like they're meant to meet, over and over again. "There are other ways to bring kids into our lives."

"It wouldn't be the same."

"But we'd love them_ just_ the same," his grin at those words are blinding.

"It's too soon anyway…"

"Maybe…but maybe not. I've known what I wanted out of my future the second I laid eyes on you. You're it for me, Gilbert."

"God, you're saying all the right things," she cries, wiping at her nose. "Please set me down. I need space." He does as she asks, setting her on the couch, and she breathes heavily. "Can you get my chair?" He wheels it over for her. She runs a hand over the arm she just squeezed the life out moments ago and she bites her lip. "Three weeks ago, whatever future I saw for myself had vanished. Now you've got me putting it back together, piece by piece."

"You don't have to do it alone," he promises. "I'll be there."

She smiles a true smile for the first time since the night of her accident. "My hope was a small flicker of light, Damon, when Parker delivered the news that I may never regain the use of my legs…and yet ten minutes with you caused that flicker to grow into a flame, regardless of the improvement or permanent plateau of my condition. Because of you, I have a future again." She inhales deeply, and finds Damon's hand, twining their fingers together. "I want more than anything for you to be a part of it. I do love you, Damon. I haven't stopped either."

Leaning forward she gives him a gentle kiss, but when Damon's free hand wraps around the back of her head, pulling her closer, the kiss morphs into something else entirely. Something she can only describe as pure need. Soon, there tearing at each other's clothes, a button flies off his shirt but neither cares to retrieve it, and then he's lying her back into the cushions and crawling on top of her. "Tell me you want this," he whispers against the skin of her throat, "as badly as I do."

"I want this," she agrees breathlessly. "I want you."

He gives her a smile, before dipping his hand in between them before she wraps her fingers around his. "Nothing will come from this, I can't…it doesn't work like before."

"Your body is perfect, Elena," he kisses her lips and she melts, "it just needs a little jump start."

"Damon –"

"Trust me," he begs her, before dipping lower, trailing kisses along her abdomen and settling himself between her legs, removing her panties and resting her legs over his shoulders. "I've got you."

Long, agonizing minutes pass before she feels it. It's faint, but there was a jolt, the beginnings of what could be a beautiful ride. She prays that Damon has the patience Liam didn't. He continues his ministrations, licking, caressing her nub with his tongue and coaxing, albeit slowly, a stronger response from deep inside. "Don't stop," she breathes. "Please, don't stop."

"Wouldn't dream of it," he mumbles before picking up the pace, and dammit what she feels is wonderful, but she wishes she could actually feel what he's without a doubt doing to her.

And then, by something that has to be a miracle, she can.

It's like a tidal wave of pleasure washing over her, threatening to pull her under and to never let her go. She cries out, lunging upward as he latches onto her, gripping onto her thighs to pull her even closer to him still. Wave after wave ripples through her every being and tears stream down her face, her chest heaving as she runs a hand through her hair, pushing her other through his.

He slowly pulls away from her, looking at her with a smug, but happy grin.

"Thank you," she smiles, pulling him up to her, pressing another kiss to his mouth. "Thank you," kiss, "thank you," kiss, "Thank you."

"Moment of truth, baby," he says, lifting her into his arms and carrying her into her bedroom. "But no matter what happens, remember that I love you. Okay?"

She nods as he lowers her to the bed before shucking off his boxers and jeans and making his way over to her. "No matter what."

Six months later…

Elena's been twirling her engagement ring relentlessly ever since stepping into the doctor's office ten minutes prior. Her sessions with her physical therapist, and her _physical _sessions with Damon have healed Elena in astounding ways. She's got enough strength to stand for short periods, her legs can feel certain sensations which is a far cry from where she was when she was first diagnosed with being a paraplegic.

Today is the day she'll be told, for certain, just how successful her workouts both in and out of the physical therapy office have been, and if she'll ever regain full use of her legs.

Damon has been by her side since the day she woke up in the hospital from getting hit by that drunk driver. They've been inseparable and he finally got the courage to ask her to be with him for the rest of his life. To his surprise and massive pleasure, she said yes.

"I've got good news, and better news." Jo walks into the room and sets down a small file in front of them. They've been on a first term basis with each other since March, less of a doctor, more of a friend.

"Lay it on me," she says with a bright smile, nearly knocking Damon flat on his ass. She's come so far, and he is so proud of her. "Let's hear it."

"Your trainer says he's impressed with how strong you've been getting in the last couple of weeks. Major improvement. Looks like he's taking care of you, huh?"

"You're not allowed to show bias to family, doc," Damon chides good-naturedly. "That isn't fair to everybody else on the staff."

"Luke may be my brother, but he's the best PT this hospital has seen in a _long_ time." She holds her hands out to Elena, as if she's proof. "Her odds of even standing up were slim to none. Now look at her. Yes, I'm proud of both my co-worker, and even more proud of my patient." She looks at Elena. "You've worked harder at regaining what's been lost to you than anyone I've ever met, and you should also be extremely proud."

Elena blushes, because she's Elena and she's modest. "Thank you."

"Now, that's the good news. Luke sees great progress for you in the future."

"And the better news?" Elena asks, her voice and eyes full of hope.

"Your spinal injury has healed beautifully. Now I can't promise anything, but if you continue to improve like this….whatever you're doing is working, Elena. You could be walking without any sort of assistance within the next couple of years."

As if her emotions had been a damn threatening to burst, they do, and she starts sobbing, throwing her face into her hands and buckling forward. Damon reaches for her, but as if she can sense his upset, she looks up at him, smiling through her tears.

Three years later…

Damon and Elena's third anniversary is today, so he's been out gathering supplies and groceries needed to make the two of them their anniversary dinner, and Elena's favorite: Chicken Parmesan. He carries in three large bags and can't help the smile that spreads over his face as his wife walks towards him. She's been walking for a little over a year now, still can't run, but baby steps have gotten them this far…

"Happy third, hubby," she smiles, wrapping her arms around his neck, lifting up on her toes to kiss him. "You're freezing," she laughs, shivering melodramatically as she brushes the snow from his hair. "Where've you been?"

"Getting the ingredients for your favorite." He watches a grimace cross her face as she drops back down to flat fleet. "What's that face?"

"Chicken Parm?" she asks, closing her eyes and exhaling heavily. "I don't…I don't know if I can eat that, Damon."

"What do you mean you don't know if you can eat it? You love my Chicken Parmesan."

"No." She presses a hand to her stomach. "Even the thought of it is…" she jerks forward, throwing a hand over her mouth and moving as quickly as she possibly can to the powder room located by the front door.

Damon drops his bags and follows behind her closely. Right as she throws the toilet seat up, in the nick of time, she loses the battle with her stomach and heaves violently. He's right there to sweep her hair off her neck and to pull it into a makeshift ponytail with his fist. He rubs her back as she continues to vomit and then when he thinks she's done, her shoulders start shaking in a different way.

"Elena?"

"I wanted to tell you tonight…after dinner…" She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. "I'm pregnant."

His heart nearly stops and he momentarily forgets how to pull air into his lungs. "You…you're what?"

She laughs once, resting against the wall and lifting her knees to her chest. "I don't know for sure, but I'm late and then at the mention of something that used to be my favorite meal…" She nods to herself. "I'd bet anything that I am."

"We haven't really talked about it since the night we got together…so I don't know if it's too soon for you, but with everything happening with me, and I think it's okay, I think I'd be okay to carry it to term…but I want it and I want this with you and –"

"Elena Marie Gilbert," he says with a choked laugh, taking her face in his hands and stroking her cheeks with his thumbs. "I love you, I really fucking love you." He kisses her passionately, before vaguely remembering they're on the floor in a powder room, when they should be celebrating in their bed. He carries her, as he always does, into their bedroom and lowers her down on the mattress.

"Isn't this how we got into this mess in the first place?"

"I don't know about you, baby," he tells her, quickly ridding her of her jeans and hovering over her as he rids himself of his own, "but I'd happily get into this mess with you over and over again." As he slides inside her, he grunts, resting his forehead against hers. "God, I love you."

"And I love you, Damon." She gasps when he pulls out and slides back in, hitting her perfectly. "You were my jump start to feeling again…I can use my legs because of you." Again he makes that gentle, albeit mind-numbing movement and she lets out a small whimper. He pumps again. "I can walk, I can make love to my husband," she breathes, grinning when he growls deliciously against her ear. "I can carry my husband's baby." And then he goes still, as she feels his warmth fill her.

After he comes down from his high, he presses kiss after kiss to the column of her throat, swallowing thickly and then lifting his face. "Merry Christmas to me." He stays inside of her, though there's remorse in his eyes as he says. "I suck."

"I'm so glad you don't, because we wouldn't be in this position," she laughs breathlessly.

"Smartass," he smirks, before dipping his hand in between them. "I'll make it up to you."

Her eyes roll and she nods. "I'd be okay with that."

"Figured you would be." He gently squeezes her nub in between his thumb and index finger, enjoying the hiss that slips past her lips. He rocks into her, working her clit with both his pubic bone and his hand, kissing every inch of her face that he can. "If you weren't pregnant before this, I really hope I just knocked you up."

"Classy, babe," she moans through a particularly spectacular thrust, causing her to grip their satin sheets. "Holy Jesus, Mary, and Joseph."

He snickers at her approaching climax, feeling her walls tighten around him and he manages to choke out, "Damon works."

"God, Damon," she cries, "Don't stop!"

His hand works tighter circles on her clit, he pumps in and out of her faster, his knees digging into the mattress as he tries to get deeper inside until she tenses, and then lets out his favorite scream – the one where it's his name being shouted eight octaves higher than her normal voice.

He works her to a climax before letting go a second time.

"I love you, Elena. Baby or no baby, I love you. Just knowing there's a possibility you could even _be_ pregnant...it's the best Christmas-slash-Anniversary gift ever."

"Good to know," she smiles serenely, lifting her hand to the side of his face, her smile widening as he leans into her touch. "But I'm pretty sure your swimmers hit their target the first time. Will you come with me to the appointment?"

"You don't have to ask, baby, you know I'll want to be there."

"Just double checking." She frowns and he does the same. He wants her to smile, all the time. "If something goes wrong…"

"Nothing will go wrong," he swears, feeling like if he said anything else it would be a lie. "Nothing."

"How do you know?"

"I don't know, but I can feel it, Elena. This…all of this…happened for a reason. You're gonna be fine, I promise." He sits up with her in their bed, letting the hand not currently wound around his wife fall to her bare stomach. He can already imagine her belly getting rounder with the life they created and he can't wait. "Trust me?"

"You know I do." She looks up at him, tears in her chocolate-colored eyes and nods. "And I always will."

"Merry Christmas-slash-Anniversary, Elena."

"Merry Christmas-slash-Anniversary, Damon."

The End

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><p><strong>AN: Thanks for reading, &amp; please review! ~ Kate<strong>


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